


Either Way

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Grandparents & Grandchildren, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: A question from their grandson sets Jean & Marco to reminiscing on their shared past - just not exactly in the same way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Watergirl1968](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watergirl1968/gifts).



> Written based on a beautiful prompt by my friend and Patreon supporter, watergirl1968. Hope you guys enjoy cute old men and grumpy teenagers!
> 
> \--

“Uh, hey Grandpa, can I ask your advice?” 

Jack was not usually the kind of boy who asked family for advice. He had a fine relationship with his mother, and with both of his grandfathers, but he was also a quiet person, who kept his thoughts and feelings to himself. It was exactly that, though, that he was wondering if he ought to change when he wandered into the sitting room of his grandfathers’ house. It was that exact topic he was wandering out onto a limb to seek advice about. 

“What about, kiddo?” Jack’s grandfather Jean took a seat in the plush living room armchair, sighing as the tension left his bones. He grinned, quite obviously pleased to have been asked for advice, and already looking smug about his answer. Jack’s mother told him stories growing up of her father's bravado, but what was left of it was the same shit-eating grins and entitled gloating that most old men were prone to. At least Jean was loveable, in an oddly cantankerous way. 

Jack settled on the carpeted floor in front of the chair, cross-legged. “I, uh. It's kinda weird to talk about, especially with mom. But um… There's this guy at school, Michael, that I've been friends with for a while, and uh. With graduation coming up, I just wondered if it might be a smart idea to… go ahead and tell him that I like him.”

“He doesn't already know?” Jean snorted. “What kind of friend are you, kid?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “No, Grandpa, I mean… like you and Grandad.  _ That _ kind of like.”

“Oh, I see. Well I more than  _ like _ your Grandad, kiddo.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jack groaned, his face feeling too hot. “You don't have to tease me about it, God. If it's gonna be like this I'll just--”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Jean schooled his features into a look of sincerity; regardless of his age, he could recall with clarity just how his grandson felt, from experience. He smiled reassuringly. “I just like to be a pain, sometimes. But tell me - what's your reason for not telling your friend how you feel? You got one?”

“I mean, it's not really rejection, I don't think. We've been kinda talking around it for a while, and I'm pretty sure he's into me, too.”

“So? Why wait?”

“It's just… We’re teenagers. I mean, what if he goes off to school and forgets me, or I change my mind later, or something? I don't wanna waste either of our time or whatever. How am I supposed to know if this could be the real thing, or not?

“You've gotta think with your heart, and trust your gut,” Jean said, leaning forward to prod Jack in the stomach. He sat back, sighing as memories began playing out before his mind's eye. “Grandad Marco and I met when we were only teenagers too, you know. Got together before we even graduated. Of course back then, things seemed simpler, even if it was harder to get a date with another boy. He was so worth the trouble, though.”

Jack sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know you guys are mushy and gross, let's get on with it, Grandpa.”

“Patience, kid,” Jean grumbled. “Now where was I? Ah, that's right. We were teenagers, and there was a dance coming up. It seemed like everyone was worrying about who to ask, but I had my sights set on a cute little dark haired girl from my gym class. Knew just how I'd ask her, too. Problem was, she already had a date, so there I was, stuck with nobody. That's when I decided to ask your grandad. We were best friends, so I figured it'd be a safe bet.”

“How does this help me?” Jack grumbled. He wondered if asking his long-winded grandfather had been the best course of action, and if he'd even still  _ be _ a teenager by the time he finished talking. 

“Cool your jets, I'm getting there! Now Marco was the sweetest kid in school, and I knew he wouldn't turn me down if I could just catch up with him, but it was the Friday before the dance when I finally asked him. He smiled so big, you'd have thought I proposed to him, right there. That was when I knew I was in trouble, when I saw those big, beautiful brown eyes twinklin’ and knew it was because of me - lord, I didn't get over that for days. I was thinkin’ about it at our wedding, and I still think about it every day.”

Jack blinked, unimpressed. “So the moral of the story is…?”

“You're as hasty as your mother, you know that?” Jean huffed, recalling his daughter's impatience with equal parts fondness and frustration. “The point I'm tryin’ to make is that sometimes you just know. You might be young, or you might be an old hunk’a cheese like me. You might be on a date or you might be right in the middle of the school hallway, on your way to math class. It doesn't matter, kid. When you find somebody special, you're gonna know. You're gonna see it. And it'll stick with you.”

Jack hummed. As much as he appreciated his grandfather’s advice, he wondered what a second opinion might add. He thanked Jean, only rolling his eyes a little when Jean snatched him closer to hug and ruffle his hair. He wondered when, if ever, Jean would stop seeing him as a child, but perhaps it was simply a curse of age. 

Either way, he headed to the other side of the house, looking for Marco, and perhaps more sage advice. 

\--

Jack’s other grandfather, Marco, was busy in the kitchen, up to his arms in hot, soapy water. He welcomed Jack into the room with a smile, and gave a similar response to his request for advice. However, the story he told of his own experience with love was incredibly different than the one Jean had told.

“Your Grandpa Jean and I didn't get together until we were in college.” Marco beamed, quite certain of himself. Jack stared, confused.

“Really? That's… That’s not what-”

“He and I had been good friends all through school, and he even took me to a dance our senior year, but I never really felt that connection with him until we were older. We roomed together in college, and it took almost our entire first semester for me to get there. He sure kept the charm turned on until I did, though.”

“What, uh… What finally changed your mind?” Jack asked. Marco laughed, calling the rest of the memory to mind. 

“Well, we were studying together one night, and I was frustrated and upset, and he offered to take me out. Nothing fancy, just a late night bite at a restaurant down the street, but it was… just the  _ thought, _ I guess. He held my hand and talked to me until I wasn't upset anymore and I just realized I was ready for something bigger, with him. That was the night we…” Marco’s fond expression suddenly went stiff, eyes wide for a fraction of a second as he backtracked through his words. “We uh, got together. I still think about it all the time, even though it was just another Tuesday.” When Jack made no move to respond, Marco leaned back against the counter, smiling. “What I want you to take away from that is that sometimes, even if you like somebody, things don't click right away. Sometimes you've gotta give it time, and let it grow into something special. That's when you end up with real, honest to goodness love for somebody.”

Jack nodded, despite feeling more confused than he had before posing his question. “Alright, well… Thanks, Grandad.”

“No problem, love,” Marco smiled. He looked down at his wet hands and sighed, turning back to look Jack full in the face. “Will you do me a favor and grab me something from upstairs? I left a cardigan up there this morning and it's getting chilly, now.”

“Sure, be right back,” Jack agreed.

“It should be on my bedside table!” Marco shouted after him. Jack couldn't hear if he kept speaking after that. Once he turned the corner into his grandparents’ bedroom, he was too busy studying his surroundings to pay attention to anything beyond them. 

The walls of the warmly painted room were covered in framed photos, but these were different from the ones that hung everywhere else in Jean and Marco's home. The other rooms were decorated with photos of family and friends, of weddings and graduations and family reunions. The pictures in the bedroom were of Jean and Marco alone; there were shots of them as very young men, pictures of them when they were raising Jack’s mother and photos of the two of them as Jack knew them, then. In every image, they were smiling, the warm, genuine smile of two people very much in love. 

Looking around, Jack couldn't help but smile as well. Marco's sweater was right where he'd said it would be, and it was only in seeing it there that Jack remembered why he was there in the first place. He grabbed the cardigan, gave the room a last, lingering look and a smile, and turned the light off behind him as he left it. 

Heading back downstairs, Jack overheard his grandfathers’ voices. From where he came to stand at the top of the staircase, he could hear and see most of their little kitchen, where Marco was still standing, drying his hands. Jean stood in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

“Heard you talking to the kiddo, a minute ago.”

When Jack heard himself mentioned, he couldn't help the urge to listen in, at least for a moment. He froze in place, watching them talk. On the lower floor, Jean was grinning like a happy, old house cat. Marco chuckled, arms crossing over his chest. 

“How did you hear us from all the way outside, you old weasel?” 

“Maybe I was eavesdropping.” Jean shrugged. Marco shook his head.

“Maybe you're as sneaky as you ever were, Jean Kirschtein.”

“Maybe you love me as much as you ever did, anyway.” Jean made his way over to where Marco stood, taking him slowly into his arms. He grinned like he'd heard a joke. “And it's Kirschtein-Bodt, thank you very much. Same as yours, in case you'd forgotten. Getting senile on me, old boy?” 

“Not just yet,” Marco laughed. “And I do love you as much as I ever did. And more every day.” He bumped his nose against Jean’s, and Jack held his breath, willing himself not to groan in disgust at watching his grandparents canoodling. Still, there was something sweet in the way Marco spoke to Jean that even Jack couldn't be repulsed by. The sharpness in Jean's voice was gone as well, and Jack suddenly felt like he was listening to two people he scarcely knew. 

“I hope little Jackie finds someone as good to him as you are to me,” Jean admitted. Jack stifled an irritated sigh at being called ‘little’, but stayed silent, listening. Below, Marco nodded, pressing a kiss to Jean's forehead.

“I hope he finds someone who looks at him the way you look at me, even after all this time.”

At that, Jean pulled back, smiling at Marco like he was seeing him for the first time. “And every day until the end of it.”

Jack looked away as his grandfathers embraced, suddenly feeling a little too present in their shared, private moment. Even as he gave them privacy to kiss though, he smiled; never had he seen two people more in love. He wished for himself exactly what they wished for him, that he would be half as lucky as they had been. Maybe it wasn't so important, knowing precisely how they'd gotten together, only that they had each known when they had known, and that they'd nurtured love once they'd found it. 

That much he could surely see the value of. 

Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, Jack sent Michael a text, tucked his phone away again, and headed back downstairs to join his grandparents.


End file.
